Don't Get Caught
by savedprincess85
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange wants to wreak havoc. She doesn't want to get caught. Written for Round 10 of QLFC. Prompt in A/N.


Chaser 2 Round 10

For this round, you will choose a character and reverse their fate. So, if a character died in canon, you will write a story where they survive the war. If they lived, you will write about their death during the war. Whether you focus on the moment that changed whether they lived or died, or you show the impact, the aftermath of their fate through someone else's eyes, or whatever is entirely up to you.

My Character: Bellatrix Lestrange

Bonus Prompts: (word) reflection, (spell) crucio, (Quote) "Her absence is like the sky, spread over everything." C.S. Lewis- note I changed the tense to past- I believe this is permissible.

Word count: 1000

The sun rose on the battlegrounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her master was dead. Killed by a mere boy of seventeen. As the shock rolled through her, she turned to the boy who was responsible for the Dark Lord's demise and pointed her wand.

"Crucio!" she shouted at the top of her lungs. The boy fell to his knees as others moved forward. He would not be the first person she killed today.

Molly Weasley had fallen to her wand only an hour ago. Bellatrix had thought she would be the one to die, but the Weasley matriarch had tripped over rubble, and that had been enough for Bellatrix to gain the upper hand. Bellatrix had felt an elated glee at killing the mother of seven children, and that filthy blood traitor's absence was like the sky, spread over everything. This one death caused a manic grin to appear on Bellatrix's face. The pain she had left in her wake was exhilarating.

"Crucio!" she cast again on the boy who was now writhing in pain on the stone ground. His death would not be quick, though. Oh no, it would be slow. She would make him pay for killing her master. So focused on the boy in front of her, she did not see the people around them.

Someone in the crowd stopped her. "Expelliarmus!"

Her wand flew from her grasp and landed in the man's hand. She was shocked at their boldness. She began yelling obscenities at those closing in around her, words that even her mother would have rebuked her for.

But her master was dead. She was about to be led back to Azkaban, and there was no future for her. She knew, even in her anger, that there was nothing she could do to get out of going to prison or even receiving the Kiss. As cords wrapped around her from a wand, she spat in the caster's face.

"You can kill me or throw me in prison, but my life will go down in the history books. I will be remembered! Harry Potter will die!" she screamed in the faces of the Auror's that surrounded her. She was Apparated directly to a prison cell in the bowels of the Ministry.

The dank room was just the same as her old one in Azkaban.

"Bellatrix Lestrange, you are arrested for crimes against the Wizarding community. You will be held until your trial," the Auror on her right spoke through gritted teeth at her.

He released her arm, and along with the Auror on her left, they walked out the door and slammed it shut with a loud clang. The ropes that bound her dropped to the floor and disappeared, the spell that had created them having been canceled out.

Tears of anger and frustration filled her eyes, which only made her angrier. She was above tears! Her master was dead, and she had failed to kill the boy responsible. It was time to plan.

She sat on the floor of her cell and allowed her anger to wash over her mind. With this cleansing came clarity. Upon further reflection, she had made a mistake in immediately attacking the boy. She should have Apparated away from the scene, gone into hiding, and waited patiently for a chance to strike.

That would have been a better plan than allowing herself to be caught. If anything, she had learned from her master the wisdom of waiting for the right time to act. Now she was trapped in a cell in the bowels of the Ministry. Her husband would soon be caught, the imbecile. Without her, he would have died years ago.

Bellatrix yelled and pounded the floor in frustration at her plight. The waiting would be the worst of her life. When the last war had ended, she had gotten off with life in Azkaban. That would more than likely not be so this time. A sentence worse than death awaited her. The Ministry would not be kind to her. She had attacked the Boy who Lived, and she would have killed him if given enough time.

All that was left to her now was time for reflection of past glories and conquests. The revels and pain that were at her wand. She remembered the girl in Malfoy Manor who had arrived just days ago. That girl would have died if the house-elf hadn't rescued them.

Time seemed to stand still and speed up all at once.

The future was almost certain for her.

Time just needed to pass for it to take place.

Her trial held not long after she was captured, gave her the verdict. She was in a cage, with manacles surrounding her neck, waist, wrists, and ankles. Movement was not an option for her, but a manic smile bloomed on her face one last time as she welcomed the charges brought against her. The list was numerous, taking nearly half an hour for them to read through. She cackled through some of them, remembering the pain she had caused for her master and for the glory of blood purity.

"Do you have anything to say in your defense?" the new Minister of Magic asked her with a booming voice.

"Yes," she cleared her throat. It had been so long since she had spoken, only laughter and screaming had come from her mouth. "I would do it all again, only this time I would not get caught." A gasp filled the crowd. A vote was cast, and the decision made.

"Then you are sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. You will be taken away and receive it immediately," the Minister said sadly as he hit his gavel on his podium.

Cackles fell from her mouth as she was led away.

The sun set with her soul being sucked from her body. Dementors feasted on her joy at being the cause of so much death and destruction. Her only regret: allowing herself to be caught.


End file.
